


How To Blind Your Best Friend, Fuck Your Enemy And Land A Derek Hale

by CrimsonScreech



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And my poor sense of humor and horrible jokes, Its like sex then Derek shows up. That's what you're in for, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:50:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonScreech/pseuds/CrimsonScreech
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I thought it was nasty.”</p>
<p>“It is but I like it. I don’t know whether to commend you for getting laid or take you over my knee for ruining my couch.” Derek says evenly. The blush on Stiles cheeks spreads across his face, turning it as cherry red as when he was caught by all his friends. Derek’s black pupils grow, nearly swallowing the beautiful hazel of his eyes. Stiles keens, pressing closer into Derek’s space.</p>
<p>“I like the second one.” Stiles croaks, throat swelling shut. He can barely breathe, his eyes darting from Derek’s eyes to his mouth and back again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Blind Your Best Friend, Fuck Your Enemy And Land A Derek Hale

_This is the last time I ever do you a fucking favor._ Stiles types into his phone, stabbing each number violently. He’s only been here four hours and he’s completely done. He just wants to wipe his hands clean after violently murdering Jackson and burn the whole loft to the ground to get rid of the evidence. He and Derek can live together, he’s there most of the time anyways.

**Why’s that?**  Derek replies a second later and oh he can hear the patronizing amusement in Derek’s voice. Forget being snuggle buddies, when this place is ashes, Derek gets the futon. Shame on him for texting and driving, super reflexes or not.

_Not only is he an asshole, he’s a cultured asshole. Royal with Cheese can suck this dick, metric system be damned._

Jackson waltzes out of the bathroom, half dressed with a towel in his hands and jeans low on his hips. Stiles seethes as his phone dings with a notification.

**Consider it karma for your high school years. Lydia and I will be there soon then you can leave. Till then, deal with it.**

Stiles expression drops, unamused. This was the last thing he did for Derek that didn’t involve someone dying or at risk of dying and it better be someone he likes or he aint having it. Not when TiVo was calling his name. Stiles flops back down on the couch, tensing when Jackson flops down on the other side.

"Texting your boyfriend?"

Even Jackson’s voice sounds like shitty; the sound of it just talks of money that isn’t his. Why anyone does favors for Jackson he didn’t know. Derek sure as hell didn’t owe Jackson anything and the blonde made that clear he wanted no help.

"No. Scott’s busy with Isaac and Allison seeing a movie." Stiles snapped back, sneering at the nasty prat, “Which I could’ve gone to if you hadn’t decided to show your ass at the last minute."

Jackson shot him a condescending look, mocking him openly, “You poor little baby. You want me to heat up some warm milk and put it in your bottle, little baby?"

No murder wasn’t simple enough. He needed to suffer, Stiles narrows his gaze, options flooding to the forefront of his brain singing, ‘Pick me!’ ‘No! Pick me!’

"Why are you even here?" Stiles settles for as mentally, Flay makes it case on why it should be Miss Murder Method of the week.

"None of your business." Jackson snorts, tossing his towel aside. "Still a bitch."

"Still a fucking snake." Stiles rolls his eyes, ignoring the other boy until he inches closer, pressing their thighs against each other, “What do you want?"

"I’m bored." Jackson says, breath ghosting across the side of his face.

"Now who’s the baby?" Stiles shifts, blood flowing to his dick as it twitches with interest. Inside he debates shoving Jackson away but something inside him left over from holding Jackson in the back of the van stirs. Something unfinished.

Jackson makes a show of laying his hand on Stiles knee, catching his eyes. Stiles glares out of the corner of his vision, neither smiling nor frowning.

"You mind?" Jackson says in a low voice, aquatic eyes mischievous.

"Is this some gay-chicken thing?" Jackson slowly shakes his head, raising an eyebrow at Stiles. Adrenaline hits Stiles veins and he knows he wants what Jackson’s offering like he wants an early Christmas. Not that he’s going to give him the satisfaction of showing his anticipation, “Proceed. My body is ready."

Stiles keeps his poker face as Jackson leans into his throat. He flinches and looses.

"Nervous?" Jackson smirks, his lips brushing against Stiles ear before taking it between his teeth, nibbling on the soft tissue. Stiles fidgets, groaning as Jackson’s palm grinds into his dick. Sighing contently, Stiles lets Jackson pull at his clothes and move him into his lap. The two boys gaze at each other, Stiles face hot and Jackson’s gaze hungry.

"Not a chance." Stiles hisses, making a fist of Jackson’s hair and crashes their mouths together. Jackson’s hands burn like fire, shoving up the other boy’s shirt, hands rough as blunt finger nails scratch his back.

They come together like gasoline and fire, tongues dancing and bodies colliding, pushing and shoving, hips sharp and grip cruel. Jackson doesn’t ask, moving Stiles legs until they’re wrapped around his back, an awkward thing for making out on Derek’s couch.

Stiles had some thoughts about what kissing Jackson would be like. It’d be open mouthed and inexperienced and sloppy and Jackson would hide his face once he got the idea Stiles didn’t know what in the hell he was doing. They’d have hard, fast and silent sex, the only noise between them the sound of skin slapping together and their own sounds of grunts and cries. 

Jackson doesn’t wait long to make use of this new position, twisting them around until Stiles is pushed into the cushions, back curled to keep Jackson pressed against him.

"Holy shit, we’re actually going to do this." Stiles breathes between dipping his hands into Jackson jeans and moaning as Jackson lays bites down against his throat.

Jackson only pulls back; hair messy and cheeks mouth red, “Say something if you’re going to back out on me, Stilinski."

Stiles makes grabby hands for the other boy, the blonde dodging his attempts to yank him back down, forcing him to use his words, “Okay! Okay! Just put something in me in the next five seconds or I swear to god-"

"Relax, freak." Jackson sighs, leaning down to plant a kiss on Stiles lips. Suddenly any response Stiles had ready dies in his throat as well as the desire to spit it out. Instead he kisses back, Jackson’s hands busy working on Stiles’ pants and boxers, pulling them up to his knees and helps him get each foot out, taking his socks with it. Jackson takes advantage of his opening, shucking his own jeans off and hello no underwear! His cock, cut and average if his endless hours of porn ‘research’ is anything to go by, is thick and heavy, the tip flushed, "Derek keep anything we can use around here?"

"How should I know?"

"Cute." Jackson mutters, pulling his duffle bag from the side of the couch over. He raids through it before pulling back with hand lotion and a condom, "If I do something wrong- you know."

"Yeah." Stiles nods, “Yeah."

Jackson lathers three of his fingers with the hand lotion, making them sleek and not so cold, taking a spot beside Stiles on the couch, naked legs sliding together. With his clean hand, he grips Stiles, thumbing the head and slit.

Stiles groaned and threw back his head. He's jerked himself off plenty of times, that was no secret but as Jackson stroked his opening, he keened. That wasn't something he did often, usually with the thoughts of Derek there, his hands, his mouth, his cock. But Jackson was more than welcome to fuck him as long as he kept this up.

"Louder." Jackson curled a finger tip inside him, pulling at his rim. Stiles dug one hand into the couch cushion, the other into Jackson's bare thigh, inching towards the other's cock. He opened his eyes when his fingers found it, winding them around the delicate skin and gave a smooth tug. He'd never felt another boy's cock in his hand before. It was new, nice. Jackson growled his own approval, urging with canting hips and dove his middle finger inside Stiles, smirking as Stiles head slammed against the couch, crying out. Jackson viciously goes back to the spot that caused the cry, searching until Stiles is practically climbing onto Jackson to get closer, his cock rubbing against ribcage. Jackson turns his head, leaning into his space, “Eager are we?”

“Shut the fuck up before I cut you.” Stiles moans, lips brushing Jackson’s, thrusting back into Jackson’s hand.

Jackson slips another finger inside him, scissoring and watching Stiles become unraveled just a little more. It was like a game, seeing what he could do to watch Stiles come apart at the seems.

He loved Lydia, loved her prowl and control. She wanted a long, sensual orgasm with foreplay. She was simply amazing, so perfect sex became something passionate and thrilling where others had left it feeling taskful.

Stiles seemed intent on fucking himself, letting Jackson pull him into his lap and grind his cock against where his hands were working, teasing him until Stiles finally snaps, grabbing a nipple and pulls, “Quit fucking around and stick it in me or don’t.”

Jackson hisses and slaps his hand away, smacking Stiles’ bare ass for good measure, and grinds out, “I’m a lot thicker than two fingers.”

“Get the condom on.” Stiles says, dropping it on Jackson’s stomach. The plastic feels more like brick on his stomach. He blanches, trying not to make an ass of himself, not with sex.

“ _Stiles._ ”

“Do you want to stop?” Stiles asks, challenging him. Jackson doesn’t want to apologize and he doesn’t want to stop either.

“Don’t bitch at me if you hurt yourself.” Jackson snaps, “You put it on me.”

“So selfish.” Stiles mutters, tearing the condom wrapper open. His heart beat betrays his efforts, his gaze shifty as he tries to roll the condom on, fumbling it the whole way to the base, pulling at it when it reaches the base. It’s endearing, sort of. Jackson

Stiles backs up, trying to mount himself, which looks awkward and hilarious at the same time. Giving in, Jackson reaches out, holding his cock in one hand and lays his hand on his thigh, fingers spread across his skin, “Just start easy.”

“I think I can handle riding a dick.” Stiles found the tip and pushed back, yelping as he sunk down a little too quickly, enveloping the head of his cock. Its tight, hot heat Jackson leans forward, teeth finding Stiles throat. He pulls at Stiles, willing him closer to lick and nip at his neck. It relaxes him, letting his cock ease its way in instead of being forced. He grabs a hold of Stiles’ shoulder, his arm crossing his back. Stiles hands scramble, one finding its way into his hair and the other latching onto Jackson’s back, digging into his skin.

He pulls Stiles, giving him an out to resist. He doesn’t, hissing and growling he bites Jackson’s ear, his neck, his shoulders. He bites whatever he can get his mouth on until Jackson is seated inside of him, mumbling curses under his breath.

“You good?”

“Just fuck me, dude.” Stiles retorts, lifting myself up only to slam right back down in an easy slide. Jackson watches Stiles face, his eyes closed and face vulnerable. Jackson shows him how to rock his hips as he lifts up, taking some control, thrusting his hips to show Stiles how to create a flow.

It isn’t long before Stiles is a simpering mess, breaking the consistency as he fucks himself once more, such a selfish lover but it’s nothing off putting to the way he feels, heat like nothing before around him.

He kisses Stiles through his climax, listening to the sounds he makes as he comes untouched between them. Hot streaks paint Jackson’s abdomen, the feeling new and not unwelcome. He keeps them together, lips brushing but not quite kissing, thrusting and thrusting, the other man’s scent filling his senses as the loft doors slide open.

“What the fuck, Stiles?” Derek shouts, Lydia at his side looking a bit confused and the angelic three-some behind them, though otherwise pleased with the situation.

Stiles flails and whether it’s because Jackson’s cock is in danger of snapping off or he’s actually part human, he stops Stiles from colliding with the coffee table by bracing him in his lap.

“I always thought it be a little more animalistic but that’s actually cute.”

“Oh my god I think I just went blind.” Scott yelps, colliding with Derek while Isaac, ever so helpful laughs his ass off. Allison and Stiles turn the same shade of red, though hands down she wore it best, as she tries to help the apparently blind Scott out.

“We’ll text you later!” Allison calls, grabbing Isaac while she swoops her two favorite boys to safety. Stiles feels a little bitter over that as Jackson hoists him off his cock. He wants to go with them on werewolf & human company things.

“Notebook isnt going to watch itself, Jackson. Tick tock.” Lydia chides, strutting into the living room up to her long distance… well whatever he is. Stiles snatches a pillow to cover himself as Jackson and Lydia share a kiss, Derek glaring from where he stands in the door. Honestly Stiles would leap into Peter’s arms right now if it meant a rescue form this horrible situation, “Oh my god, Stiles. I really didn’t need to see your spunk on Jackson’s perfect abs.”

“Sorry Lyds, when two guys have sex it tends to get messy.”

“Mhm.” Lydia gives him ‘the look’, the one where she doesn’t need to say words to convey her distaste. Stiles blanches as Jackson snatches his underwear and uses it to clean up his come.

“Seriously.”

“Keep it as a momento.” Jackson grins, dressing himself in a flash. Stiles rolls his eyes and waits until Lydia cant see him to get his pants on. And there’s Derek. Still creeping like he hasn’t seen Stiles bare ass on numerous occasions. Usually involving werewolf shenanigans. Derek lingers, like Stiles is his prime objective,  gaze judgmental like Stiles like he’s just done something shameful.

 Stiles pulls on his socks next, giving him the cock-eye, “What?”

“When I told you ‘deal with it’ I didn’t mean have nasty fuck-spree on my couch.” Derek sneers as he breaths a heavy sigh and enters the apartment, as if being in the very room is painful. Maybe it’s just his sense of smell.

“It wasn’t nasty, it was awesome.”

“You had filthy, nasty, debauching romp on my couch and now I’m mentally scarred forever. You’re a terrible human being.” Derek says as if Stiles has specifically off-put him, but his mouth doesn’t match his tone.

It never does, that’s what Stiles loves about it. Derek can be a fucking flirty cock-tease all he wants but his mouth, that’s always on Stiles side. Stiles spies the smirk curling in the corner, just for him. That mouth can always knock him off his game, no matter how many times he sees it. He’s one of the few people that can make Derek smile. He’d even dare to say Derek enjoyed his company.

“Why don’t you ever say that stuff to Lydia? She has plenty of nasty sex.”

“Lydia has class and doesn’t have sex on my couch; hence it’s none of my business and neither yours.” Derek teases. Once they got over the whole, I used you to resurrect your insane uncle from the grave thing they actually got along… somewhat. Derek admired her where Lydia found him attractive to look at. They got along on mutual respect and enjoyment of Stiles… well mocking Stiles, “So Jackson?”

Stiles tenses as Derek makes a show of sticking up his nose, leaving Stiles sputtering, “We have sexual tension! I can totally get hot guys.”

Oops. He wasn’t supposed to say that last part out loud.

Derek laughs. And laughs. And laughs, desperation to stop the noise sending Stiles lunging at his chest shoving and punching him. Derek lets him for a moment before catching his fists and pulls him chest to chest, leaving little space between them unoccupied. Stiles glares into those amazing hazel eyes, a light blush on his cheeks, so cocky as he smiles, “You still smell like sex. It’s nice.”

“I thought it was nasty.”

“It is but I like it. I don’t know whether to commend you for getting laid or take you over my knee for ruining my couch.” Derek says evenly. The blush on Stiles cheeks spreads across his face, turning it as cherry red as when he was caught by all his friends. Derek’s black pupils grow, nearly swallowing the beautiful hazel of his eyes. Stiles keens, pressing closer into Derek’s space.

“I like the second one.” Stiles croaks, throat swelling shut. He can barely breathe, his eyes darting from Derek’s eyes to his mouth and back again. Derek stares right back at him, oozing his stupid werewolf confidence all over the place. Stiles licks his dry lips and just like that, Derek’s eyes drop to his mouth.

It’s so fucking on right now.


End file.
